Page 6 of Espíritu

The conversation dissolved into bickering again: Rocky threatening to put Omar’s face in the beans, Flaca rolling her eyes like she’d adopted a litter of feral cats. But Julian only half heard it. The laughter was there, the food was good, but the knot in his stomach didn’t budge.

Even surrounded by everyone he loved, something still felt off.

Luca lingered at the edge of the table. The fragile smile he’d worn during dinner had slipped.

“I should probably get going,” he said, like he already regretted it.

The room stilled.

“We just fed you!” Rocky protested. “You need like thirty minutes before going on a walk or you’ll get stomach cramps!”

“You don’t have to,” Flaca said firmly, but her voice carried more worry than command.

Omar glanced up, frowning. “Stay the night. No one’s kicking you out.”

Julian’s chest squeezed tight. “Yeah, man. Crash here!”

But Luca shook his head, his eyes wide, guilt and fear knotted together. “I can’t. You know I can’t.” His fingers worried at his bracelet until his knuckles went white. “They’ll notice.”

The protests died. They all knew what he meant.

From the armchair, Rio set his plate aside. He’d been eating in silence, but now he stood and grabbed his keys.

“I’ll drive you,” he said simply.

Luca blinked, surprised. “You don’t have to—”

Rio cut him off with a look. “Yeah, I do. You’re not walking over there in the dark by yourself.”

For a second, Luca just stared, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Rio.” His voice was small but relieved.

Rio had always been Julian’s shield, but seeing him extend that to the rest of their patchwork family made Julian love his brother in a different way. Maybe that was what kept them alive. Not magic, not muscle, but catching each other when the world tried to drop them.

Julian wanted to grab Luca, duct-tape him to the couch, keep him safe in the noise and warmth of the apartment. But wanting and being able were two different things. He hated that most of all.

“At least let me know when you get there, okay?” Julian managed weakly.

Luca nodded. “Yeah. Promise,” he said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

Flaca pulled Luca into a quick hug before letting him go. Rocky messed up his hair on purpose, making him squawk, and even Omar muttered, “Text us if you need us.”

Julian walked him to the door, heart pounding like he was sending him off to war. “You know we’ll come get you if you need us,” he said.

“I know.” Luca’s smile was small but brave. “See you tomorrow.”

The door shut behind him, and the apartment felt too quiet all at once.

Julian grabbed his fork and stabbed at the last of his dinner.

“You’re gonna break it,” Omar warned.

“Better the fork than me,” Julian shot back, jaw tight.

Luca walking out the door, the way everyone had looked at him over dinner, the exhaustion of too little sleep and too many chores. All of it pressed down, heavier and heavier, until he dropped the fork with a clang.

“Screw this,” he muttered. Maybe a hot shower could burn the jitters out, scrub away the weight digging under his ribs.

He ducked down the hall, desperate for a moment alone.